


American Ninja Worrier

by DangerBeckett



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Bat Brothers, Bat Family, Batfamily Feels, But not incredibly seriously, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Just Add Ninjas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 10:20:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12033890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangerBeckett/pseuds/DangerBeckett
Summary: It's just like Tim to give a poor college student a start in the business world. Kid's a bleeding heart, and usually, that's the sort of thing Jason avoids at all costs. He prefers his bleeding hearts on the literal side, and despite Bruce's best efforts, he's never had a head for business.Unfortunately, though, this time the business is ninjas, and that's the sort of thing that makes Jason take notice. Because Bruce is useless, and someone's gotta make sure Tim's new internship program doesn't take down all of Gotham.That's Jason's job, after all.





	American Ninja Worrier

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to warn you now: this is, if not verified crack, at the very least crack-adjacent. You can tell because Jason has a semi-decent relationship with the Batfam. (Also, the ninjas. The ninjas give it away too.)
> 
> Warning: as always, Jason swears. A lot. Writing Jason is very therapeutic on those days when you're at work and want to pretend you're a functioning adult, but you also want to swear. A lot.

Weirdness, Jason decides, follows the Replacement around like PTSD flashbacks follow the Joker.

Sometimes it’s really obvious weirdness, like the human garbage disposal that is Bart Allen or the broody Superman wannabe that is Conner Kent. Sometimes, though, it’s more subtle weirdness. Like Red Robin being the first one ready to go on patrol in the middle of the week, when he’s usually still answering WE e-mails right up until he takes off for his night job. Or the Replacement sitting in front of his computer in full gear, studying what looks like college enrollment records in Japanese. (Jason knows the kid reads Japanese; that’s not weird. What’s weird is _there’s no anime in sight._ )

“Hey, kid, wanna watch a building go boom?” Jason asks, poking at the Replacement’s shoulder. The guy likes an explosion almost as much as Jason does, but Tim’s very favorite explosions are the ones Bruce will blame Jason for. Jason doesn’t mind. “I got one all set up by the docks. Drug lord central. They are gonna scamper like _rats_. Countdown to the fireworks starts in fifteen minutes.”

“Can’t,” Timmy says distractedly. He doesn’t even look up to give Jason a disapproving glare for his trouble. Rude. Jason pokes harder. “Busy tonight.”

“Something big goin’ down?”

Tim hums. “Maybe. Not sure yet. I have an interview.”

“Ah,” Jason understands with a grin. “An ‘interview,’ huh? Need some muscle to back you up?”

Finally the Replacement looks up, confused. When he sees Jason leering at him and smacking his fist into his palm, Tim rolls his eyes. “Not that kind of interview. A job interview.”

“You’re…interviewing for a new job? In costume?”

“Well, it’s not a job, per se. More like an internship.” Tim stands up and stretches, reaching for the keys to his bike. “And I’m about to be late. Have fun blowing up your drug lords.”

“I will,” Jason says, dumbfounded. “I always have fun blowing up drug lords. But wait, are you interviewing someone, or is someone interviewing you—”

“Jay! Stop leaving your helmet where Damian can find it!” Dick shouts from the changing area, and by the time Jason has flipped him off and turned back to confront Tim, all that’s left of Red Robin is exhaust fumes.

* * *

It’s a full week and a half before Jason and Tim are in the same hemisphere again, much less the same room. Tim’s been wrapping up some big business deal in Tokyo for WE, and Jason’s been pulling double duty in Gotham, covering Red Robin’s territory as well as his own. Dick offers to take a few nights as Nightwing, but considering Jason doesn’t have to do anything during the day except sleep and keep being legally dead, he figures he can handle the extra workload.

And if the Replacement ends up owing him a favor or two, well, that’s just a fringe benefit.

Jason doesn’t wait long to call in his marker. Tim’s plane lands at 9:00 PM on the dot the following Saturday night, and by 10:30, Jason has bullied him into stopping by a safe house to look into the financial records of the company funding a new orphanage going up in the Bowery. Out of the kindness of their capitalist hearts.

“Something just doesn’t smell right,” Jason says, as Tim climbs in through his window. Even though Jason left the door unlocked and the window armed when he came in from patrol. Asshole. “I want to make sure everything’s on the up-and-up before kids start— _behind you!_ "

Jason whips out a gun and trains it on the figure coming in the window after the Replacement: a fully-attired ninja. Before Jason can let loose a stream of bullets, Tim jumps in the line of fire.

“Don’t!” the kid yells. “That’s my new intern!”

Jason is so stunned by the statement that he doesn’t even protest when Tim disarms him. The ninja doesn’t move, standing patiently in the shadows next to the window.

“You were interviewing for a ninja?” Jason asks in utter disbelief. “What does a ninja need with an internship?!”

“Work experience,” says a voice from inside the ninja wrappings. “No one takes you seriously these days if you don’t have on-the-job training. Experiential learning just doesn’t cut it anymore.”

Tim nods. “It’s important to build a solid résumé before going on the job market, Hood.”

“Yeah, for, like, business majors and shit,” Jason says faintly. “Not ninja majors.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tim scoffs. “There’s no such thing as a ninja major.”

Jason is a little ashamed to admit he’s relieved. Not that he actually thought people could major in ninja-ing, of course, but—

“There are ninja _schools_.”

“I’m majoring in Infiltration and Extermination Studies with a minor in Swordplay,” the ninja supplies helpfully. “At a Kudzu League university.”

“And that’s very impressive,” Tim says to the ninja, “but I keep telling you, it’s the name on the graduate school diploma that counts. What’s our motto?”

“‘State schools are safety schools,’” the ninja chants. “Also, ‘never publish in a non-peer-reviewed journal.’”

Tim nods, satisfied, but Jason gapes at them both.

“Fuck this,” Jason swears finally. “Fuck. This. And just what do you think Batman is going to say? Do you honestly expect him to approve?”

Tim grins, wide and sharp.

* * *

“I approved the new hire,” Batman confirms. His eyes are glued to the Batcomputer, but unlike when the Replacement does it—clearly focused on his work, lost in his own little world—Bruce is blatantly using it as cover.

Jason just doesn’t get it. “You approved the hiring of a ninja. A ninja. You said, ‘okay, sure, let’s bring a ninja on board. Why limit ourselves to orphans off the streets when there are ready-made random assassins available?’ This one isn’t even related to you!” Jason pauses. “I assume. It’s not another bat brat, is it? Tell me it’s not another bat brat.”

Bruce glowers. “Damian is not—”

“You can’t argue either half of that, B. He’s a bat. He’s a brat.”

“He’s getting better,” Bruce insists, which is true, but not at all the point.

“Forget it. Let’s get back to how you let Tim hire a trained killing machine.”

“I did not—Jason, Tim went through an extensive search process before choosing his intern,” Bruce says. “I’m sure he found someone who doesn’t go around killing people.”

“The ninja is majoring in Infiltration and Extermination Studies,” Jason says flatly.

Bruce blinks. “Ninjas have majors?”

“Focus, old man,” Jason says, aggrieved. “Why is it okay for the kid to hire a professional murderer, but when I eliminate someone for the benefit of humankind, it’s all, ‘killing is never okay, Jason. Why aren’t you more like Tim, Jason?’”

Now Bruce frowns and finally gives up the pretense of reading the screen to stare at Jason. “I have never suggested you be more like your brother.”

“Yeah, well, it was implied.” Jason shifts uncomfortably under Bruce’s gaze. “So answer the question. Why does he get a ninja?”

Bruce’s frown gets deeper, but he allows the change of subject without comment. “Because I have full faith in Tim’s reasons for needing a ninja.”

They stare at each other for a full five seconds until Jason says, “You have no fucking clue what he’s doing, do you?”

Bruce sighs. “He submitted the ninja hiring request under the codename ‘Project Fantasy League.’ I assumed it was referring to the office fantasy football draft and our plan to finally take down Lucius and Tam.”

“And once you read it…?” A guilty look flits across B’s face before he can hide it. Jason has a sudden, fierce urge to face-palm. “You approved it without even reading it?! What kind of CEO are you?”

“The kind that trusts his children,” Bruce says coolly, and Jason would almost believe him, except Jason wasn’t reborn yesterday. He stares Bruce down until the man finally cracks. “You don’t understand, Jason. I was desperate. They win every year. They have choreographed victory dances. I caught Lucius practicing this year’s dance _before the draft even began_. I can’t ignore that.” Bruce’s gaze intensifies. “Batman is sworn to avenge injustice wherever it may hide.”

Jason gives in and palms the _shit_ out of his face.

* * *

“I do not understand,” the demon brat says with a frown. “Drake has acquired a ninja?”

“Yes!” Jason has never been Damian Wayne’s biggest fan, but he’s ridiculously pleased to find someone in their crazy, fucked up family is as disturbed by this as he is. “Isn’t that wrong? On so many levels?”

“Indeed,” the brat says with a nod. “I admit, I find this turn of events…disturbing. This concerns you.”

“Of course it does! The kid’s running around the rooftops of Gotham with a ninja. Sooner or later, this is gonna go bad. What part of this are you not getting?”

“Your concern,” the brat admits. “You have never shown such regard for Drake’s existence previously. On several occasions, in fact, you have made admirable attempts to end that existence.”

“You did too,” Jason retorts sulkily.

“Yes.” The demon brat nods. “All of which were, sadly, ultimately thwarted. Which is why a ninja shadowing Drake does not worry me. Either this ninja is part of one of Drake’s schemes and is thus here to ultimately benefit Gotham, or Drake has made a massive miscalculation which will likely result in his timely demise. Since Grayson has forbidden me to contribute to said demise, and since I have full confidence in my ability to handle this ninja should I become a target after Drake has expired, I see no cause for concern.”

Jason is doing the gaping thing again. He knows he is, but he can’t stop it.

“So yes, I do not understand,” the demon confesses. “Are you concerned because you fear the ninja will harm Drake, or are you concerned because you fear the ninja will harm you?”

That’s the easiest question Jason’s heard all day, because there’s no way he’ll ever admit to being concerned for the Replacement. “Me, obviously!”

The brat nods. “An understandable concern. I have seen you fight, and I concur your skills are inferior to those of even an interning ninja. As Father and Grayson keep attempting to impart to me during our training sessions, it is important to acknowledge our limitations and overcome them through teamwork.”

Jason can feel his eyes bugging out of his skull. Before he can say anything, though, Damian gives a long-suffering sigh.

“Since you have come to me for protection, you need not worry. Should it become necessary, I shall defend you from the ninja, Todd.” When Jason doesn’t move, Damian raises an eyebrow and gestures to the door. “You may go.”

Before Jason can give the demon a serious demonstration of those so-called “inferior skills,” Dick Grayson materializes out of nowhere and pulls him, seething, down the hall.

* * *

“You don’t understand,” Dickwad insists. “This was major progress for Dami! He’s offering to protect you, like a brother should!”

“After the ninja kills the Replacement,” Jason points out. “So not exactly a total win on the brotherhood front, Goldie.”

Dick deflates. “We’re working on that. He _did_ acknowledge Tim’s plans usually benefit Gotham. That’s progress.”

Jason eyes him suspiciously. “Just how long were you out there eavesdropping, Creepwing?”

“Oh, awhile,” Dick says, flapping a hand to signify he’d been there the whole fucking time. “Anyway, I don’t think Damian would actually let the ninja hurt Tim. He just doesn’t want anyone thinking he cares.”

“Then you should submit that performance to goddamn Julliard,” Jason grumbles. “But what about you? You’re letting your precious little baby bird pal around with a ninja assassin?”

Dick sighs. “Tim says he knows what he’s doing. But he won’t tell anyone what he’s doing, so of course I’m worried.” He grins slyly. “I’m glad I’m not the only one.”

“What? No!” Jason splutters. “I’m just worried it’s gonna infringe on my territory, idiot!”

“Now who should be at Julliard?” Dick snorts. “Whatever you say, Jaybird. But no matter the reason, I’m glad you’re taking an interest. He at least talks to you. He trusts you.”

“For someone with a giant brain, then, he’s sure not a great judge of character.”

“No one believes that, Little Wing,” Dick says sternly. “Not for one second. You’re a good person. You always have been, and Tim could do a lot worse for a big brother.”

“He has you, Golden Boy,” Jason sneers, “so don’t give me that—”

“But he doesn’t want to talk to me these days, and I don’t blame him for that. So if it’s all the same to you, Jay, I’d rather you didn’t finish that sentence,” Dick says, and though his voice is light, Jason can see how much it’s costing Dick to have to say it at all. Jason knows the Replacement and the Golden Boy went through their issues after Dick gave Robin to the demon brat—and truth be told, that’s when Jason had started cutting the Replacement some slack, chilling in the same boat as they were—but he’d thought the two of them had put their issues aside. Guess not.

“Fine,” Jason huffs. “I’ll keep an eye on the squirt. Just to make sure we aren’t all about to be invaded by ninjas or whatever.”

“That’s all I ask. Thank you,” Dick says sincerely, and damn if it doesn’t make Jason feel _good_ about giving in.

Ass _hole_.

* * *

The ninja is in the cave.

Jason can’t believe his eyes. There is Bruce, over by the Batcomputer that holds all their secret files. There is Tim, over by the Batcomputer that holds all their _secret files_. And there is the ninja, over by the Batcomputer _that holds all their secret files_.

Jason walks over, about to rip into the Replacement, when he realizes he’s sick of being the sensible one here. So he fixes his gaze on Bruce, mentally willing him to step up and accept some responsibility for this fuckup. It maybe even works, because B nods firmly and pushes back from the computer.

“Red Robin, we need to talk. This has gone on long enough,” Bruce says sternly.

Tim stops midsentence, stalled in the middle of explaining the chemical breakdown of Poison Ivy’s newest concoction. “It’s not my fault Ivy is using needlessly complicated growth formulae again. I told her the worm casings in the fertilizer were completely unnecessary, but she said the guy at Home Depot swears by them, and frankly I’m a little concerned she was right, given these growth projections for shade-thriving plants.”

Bruce frowns and reaches for the keyboard, no doubt to start pulling up said growth projections, so Jason clears his throat. Pointedly.

“No, Red, I’m not talking about your work with Ivy’s fertilizer. I’m referring to your, ah, side project.” Bruce gestures to the ninja, who has somehow melted into the shadows that don’t exist around the well-lit computer. Tim waves to the ninja, who obediently puts on a pair of noise-canceling headphones and walks off to the back of the cave where Alfred is waiting.

Jason is so getting Tim to train his next dog.

Bruce waits for Alfred to nod to him before continuing. “You lied to me, Tim. I can’t condone that.”

Bruce is glowering now, in that Bat-specific way he does, and the Replacement actually looks a little chagrined.

“I put all the details in the project proposal—” Tim starts, but Bruce cuts him off.

“You were perfectly aware I would not read the proposal. Is that correct?”

The Replacement’s head hangs, and Jason feels the tiniest, itty-bittiest morsel of remorse for picking on the guy, because while this is totally for his own good, Jason really didn’t mean to add to the kid’s shitty self-esteem and—

“Just answer me one question, Tim.” Bruce takes a breath. “What is your actual plan to deal with Lucius and Tam this year?”

—and _what?!_

Tim blinks. “What?”

“They picked Dak Prescott ahead of Tony Romo last year, Tim. Dak Prescott!” Bruce continues forcefully. “Obviously putting Tam in charge of the time travel division was a mistake.”

Jason groans. “You are useless, old man. Useless!”

Tim blinks again. “Am I in trouble?”

“Yes!” Jason shouts at the same time Bruce says, “That depends on your plan,” because _fucking useless_ , Bruce.

Tim blinks a third time. “Lucius is heading up the concussion prevention project we’re doing with the NFL, so he’s ineligible to participate given his potential for insider information. And I’m deputizing Tam as our liaison to LexCorp. Their board has, uh, invited her to join their office pool.” Tim smiles like the shark he really is. “She told them she thought Tom Brady was a brand of beer.”

Bruce nods approvingly. “I’ve always liked Tam. Haven’t I always said how much I like Tam? We’d be lost without Tam and Lucius.”

“ _Useless!_ ” Jason repeats, but he gets as much response as he did the first time. Tim and Bruce sit down to talk gardening and growth projections together, and Jason throws up his hands in defeat.

The ninja returns from the shadows just long enough to silently hand Jason a soothing cup of tea. Jason takes it, because at this point, who even cares?

* * *

“Hood,” hisses a voice from an alley, and Jason honest to God jumps. He turns instinctively and fires, but the ninja—a new ninja; just how many of them are there in Gotham these days?—who called him dives nimbly out of the path of the bullet. “My master wishes to speak with you.”

“Your what?” asks Jason, because a ninja offering him a comm link in a dark alley in the middle of Gotham can only mean bad, bad things.

“The Demon Head,” clarifies the ninja. He even bows as he says it. Jason rolls his eyes beneath his helmet, but he still jerks off the hood so he can take the comm.

“What?” he growls.

_“Hood,”_ says the smooth, accented tone of Ra’s al Ghul. _“A pleasure.”_

Jason’s in no mood for small talk. “I repeat, what?”

_“Tsk, no manners. That’s the problem with you Americans. Or is it you young people? Little difference, I suppose.”_ Ra’s pauses, and Jason imagines him sitting in some fancy bath of vivid green Lazarus goo, sipping Chianti. _“I require your assistance.”_

Jason chokes. “Uh, how about, ‘hell no?’”

_“Do not be hasty. Our current goals are mutually aligned, it appears,”_ Ra’s continues. _“It has come to my attention that my young detective has begun recruiting ninja to his cause. In fact, according to my sources, he recently came into the possession of just such a ninja, correct?”_

“You have to know I’m not answering that,” Jason says, “but I gotta say, I don’t think the Replacement possesses people. That’s more your thing. Now, I’m not sure why you suddenly felt the need to talk to me of all people about Red Robin’s life choices, but—”

_“Relax, Hood. I only ask that you take a message to Timothy. Tell him he is playing with forces beyond his control, forces he does not yet understand, and—”_

“Sorry, wrong number,” Jason says, just to be a dick, as he rips out the comm and crushes it beneath his foot. He expects the ninja to be appalled, but the ninja merely holds out another comm for Jason to take. Jason does, crushing this one underfoot without even answering.

The ninja lets out a sound suspiciously similar to the demon brat’s long-suffering sigh from earlier (so _that’s_ where he learned it) and finally holds out a hand-written note. Jason takes it gingerly, debating whether it’s worth crushing this one for emphasis or just lighting it on fire for expediency. The ninja holds up a physical cell phone, on speaker.

_“If you wish to know how deeply the Detective has ensnared himself this time, you are welcome to read the note,”_ Ra’s al Ghul informs him through the tinny burner phone speaker. _“One way or another, however, I suggest you pass along the message. I don’t imagine either of us wishes to lose young Timothy to a, shall we say, miscommunication.”_

“God, you’re creeptastic. If you were going to give me a note, why not just do that in the first place?” Jason asks, but it’s rhetorical; the ninja and the phone have disappeared without a trace.

* * *

“You are _feuding_ with _Ra’s al Ghul?"_  Jason demands the next time he sees the Replacement, which doesn’t take long considering Jason has spent every waking moment (and some that should not have been waking) since reading Ra’s’ note searching for the kid.

Yes, he knows he shouldn’t have read the Replacement’s private communication, especially given Ra’s went out of his way to involve Jason instead of directly giving Tim the note in the first place, blah blah blah, but he’s a naturally curious person, okay?

He conveniently ignores that old adage about curiosity killing the Robin. This ain’t Ethiopia.

“‘Feuding’ is a strong term,” the kid deflects. “I prefer to call it, ‘diminishing Ra’s al Ghul’s resources.’”

Jason brandishes the note in Tim’s face, regretting his choice to leave his guns at home. The note is not nearly as effective. “ _He_ prefers to call it putting a fucking bounty on your head!”

“Ah,” Tim says, nodding, “I thought that might happen. There was at least a sixty percent chance, anyway.”

This kid is going to give Jason a heart attack. It’s not even a question of _if_ anymore. It’s a question of _when_. “And we’re just gonna sit here and pretend that’s okay?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s _okay_ ,” Tim objects, “but it’s acceptable.”

Jason thinks maybe the kid didn’t do so hot in English class. At least not the vocab units.

“He’s only going after me,” Tim continues. “And even then, he’s having someone else actually do his dirty work. It’s one of the better alternatives.”

_Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask…_ “What were the other alternatives?” _Dammit._

“There was a ten percent chance Ra’s already had an assassin in place somewhere that I missed, and an additional ten percent chance he would go after one of my allies to convince me to stop. Add to that another ten percent chance I’d attract Ra’s’ full attention myself, and he wouldn’t delegate.” The kid hesitates, and when he keeps going his tone is deceptively mild. “There was a further five percent chance that Ra’s would contact you about a bounty, and you’d decide to kill me for the reward yourself.”

It takes Jason a second to process that. “Oh my god, you try to kill a guy one time—”

“—Multiple times—”

“—And suddenly you’re the bad guy! When I kill you, Pretender, and at this rate that is better than a damn five percent chance, it is going to be for me, not for fucking Ra’s al Ghul. That shit doesn’t happen on my watch. You hear me?”

Tim smiles, one of his real ones that reaches his eyes despite his best intentions. “Heard!” he chirps, throwing in a jaunty salute.

“Such a little shit,” Jason grumbles. “Don’t know why I bother.”

“It’s a valid question,” Tim agrees, but before Jason can even begin to unpack that particular can of worm casings, he goes on to say, “By the way, think you can cover my patrol route again for the next couple days? I hate to ask, but there’s something I have to take care of overseas, and Dick’s started asking for favor repayment in family bonding nights to socialize the demon brat. I don’t think Damian is taking the lessons from them that Dick thinks he is.”

Jason shudders. “Thanks for the heads-up. No sweat. I can handle it. More WE crap?”

“Not really. Personal stuff,” Tim says ambiguously.

And yeah, ’cause _that_ isn’t gonna make anyone suspicious. Jason’s eyes narrow. “Personal ninja stuff?”

“Don’t worry. I’m leaving the ninja here.”

“Unsupervised?”

“Ninjas are fully-functional adults, Jay. Dress themselves and feed themselves and even walk themselves when the situation requires it.”

The Replacement seems unperturbed by this, which automatically perturbs Jason. Tim is leaving for entire 24-hour periods and giving a ninja—even a pet ninja—complete autonomy in Gotham has “insanely bad idea” stamped all over it.

Not a chance in hell, Jason decides as he nods and smiles and backs away from the crazy person masquerading as his replacement. The list of things not happening on Jason Peter Todd’s watch suddenly has a new entry.

Time to sit down and have a nice, long chat with a ninja. Preferably under duress.

* * *

“Kidnapping is _illegal_ ,” Dick says, aghast. He’s staring at the ninja tied to a chair in the cave like Jason hasn’t done way worse things than kidnapping a ninja. At least the ninja is still breathing. What more does Dick want from him?

“I feel like being a ninja? Also a little illegal,” Jason argues.

“No,” the ninja pipes up, because Jason didn’t think to worry about gags yet, “you’re thinking of henchmen.”

“Shut up. You’re a prisoner. Prisoners don’t talk.” Jason realizes how that sounds, then adds, “Until we want you to.”

The ninja shrugs and leans back.

“You do not wear a mask,” Damian observes to the ninja, fingering his own domino like the ninja might not know the word ‘mask.’ “You feel no need to conceal your identity, then. Would it not be better to remain unrecognized? What of the time you spend on your own pursuits?”

The ninja seems confused. “Why would I wear something different when I chase people on my own?”

“I think the kid meant hobbies. What do you do when you aren’t, y’know,” Jason gestures vaguely, “ninja-ing.”

“Ah,” the ninja nods. “I study.”

“You…study?”

“Yes.” The ninja nods again. “For class. I am considering a four-plus-one program, so I can complete my master’s degree concurrently with my bachelor’s degree. An MS degree looks so much better on the doctoral applications when you don’t have an extensive undergraduate research background, and you have to be able to talk intelligently about real-world applications in your teaching and research statements.”

Jason doesn’t even know where to start. “And for this you need an…MS degree?” He’s guessing it isn’t a typical Master of Science.

The ninja doesn’t disappoint. “Master of Stealth.”

“And they have doctoral programs for this?”

“Of course.” The ninja looks at him oddly. “Who else would teach the master’s classes?”

“You…want to be a teacher?”

“It’s my dream.” The ninja sighs wistfully. “I love to learn.”

“Oh my god, Red Robin got a _nerd ninja_ ,” Dick whispers. “That is classic Red Robin.”

Jason refrains from pointing out _he_ is the classic Red Robin, thank you very much. God, Tim steals _everything_.

“Okay, we’re getting off track,” Jason says, pulling focus back to him. “The point is, this is weird and causing lots of problems. The Pretender doesn’t seem inclined to agree, and Batman doesn’t seem inclined to deal with it, which brings us to why we’re all here.”

“I’m here to make sure no one gets shot,” Dick says.

“I am here because Nightwing would not allow me to patrol unaccompanied,” Damian sulks.

“I’m here because someone gassed my room,” the ninja adds.

“You’re all here _for very valid reasons_ ,” Jason snarls. “You got a name, ninja?”

The ninja frowns. “I put it very clearly on my internship application. Did you misplace the file?”

“All right, from now on I dub you Ninja McTalksalot, McTalky for short. So, what brings you to town, McTalky?”

“Primarily a good recommendation letter,” McTalky replies.

“From Red Robin?”

“Oh, yes!” McTalky smiles brightly. “I considered Ra’s al Ghul’s internship program, but frankly the curriculum was too heavy on the Loyalty coursework. Plus, my mother was worried about all the instability in the Middle East. So much violence, you know.”

Jason and Dick are blatantly staring, but Damian accepts the explanation with ease, like the baby ninja he is. “And you believe Red Robin’s words will hold sufficient weight for your future career plans?”

“Of course. I’m writing my honors thesis on Red Robin and his role in the upheaval and subsequent evolution of ninja pedagogy. I wanted to see his methods firsthand.” McTalky frowns again. “I’m going to have to rewrite the section on Allies and Minions, though. There are far more of you than I thought.”

“Allies?”

“Minions.”

Damian chokes. “We are not minions!” He reconsiders. “Hood might be a minion.”

“Oh, hell _no_ you did not just call me a minion,” Jason roars, prompting Dickface to flip himself between the two before they can draw weapons.

“Stop it!” Dick has to raise his voice to be heard over the ensuing scuffle. “No one here is a minion, okay?!”

“Are you sure?” McTalky asks dubiously. “Because from where I’m sitting, tied to a chair by three people who seem disproportionately upset by my sanctioned involvement with Red Robin, it certainly looks like—”

“No one is a minion!” Dick shouts.

“No one is _upset_!” Damian screeches.

“No one is helping!” Jason yells. He sits down on a chair. Hard. “This is getting us nowhere. Are you working for Ra’s al Ghul?”

“I wish.” McTalky goes starry-eyed. “Their tenure package is incredible. A four-lifetime appointment.”

The ninja’s poetic waxing about the health benefits offered by the al Ghuls (whose health benefit package boiled down to a single, venomously-green pit, Jason knew from experience) is interrupted by a sudden beeping coming from the comm system in the cave. Jason shares a brief look of pure panic with Dick, obvious even through their respective masks, and then as one they leap—literally, in Dickwad’s case—into action. Jason ties a gag around McTalky’s mouth, while Dick slams his hand down on the controls for the comm system.

“Hey, Red Robin,” Dick says, only slightly out of breath. It’s a not-so-subtle greeting to tell Tim to use their vigilante names rather than their given names, but Jason inwardly groans. Tim’s calling the cave. Someone way dumber than the Replacement would figure out that means there’s unexpected company in the one place there should not be unexpected company.

Tim doesn’t comment on it, though. _“Hey, Nightwing,”_ he says pleasantly. Too pleasantly. Jason has a sudden desire to be anywhere but here. _“May I speak to the Red Hood, please?”_

Jason has faced drug lords. Jason has faced serial killers. Jason has faced intergalactic supervillains. Jason has faced _Batman_. But now Jason shakes his head and steps away from the console, hoping this adequately conveys to Dick how not-here Jason currently is. Except Dick the Betrayer has his sheepish, “better you than me” face on.

Jason mentally resets his “forty-three days without a workplace murder attempt” tally.

The Replacement sighs. _“I know you’re there, J—Hood. I also know my intern is there. I would like you to release said intern, please. There are a great many important internship responsibilities to be taken care of, and to do that, my intern needs to be out in the world interning.”_

“I’m not releasin’ nothing,” Jason says stubbornly, deciding the best defense is a good offense. Now that Jason knows what the call is about, though, he does carefully arrange those Bat-approved noise-cancellation headphones the ninja sported last time in the cave around the ninja’s ears. After some consideration, he ties a blindfold around the ninja’s eyes too. No sense taking chances with lip-reading. “You got Ra’s al Ghul on your back, baby bird. That means you got us on your back too.”

“Jay’s worried,” the Betrayer throws in. At Jason’s disbelieving scowl, Dick adds, “I mean, we’re all worried.” This time, Damian is the one to scowl. “Okay, fine, I’m worried, and no one else here is the slightest bit worried but me. Are we all happily emotionally repressed now?”

“I would be,” Jason smirks, “but I’m repressing the happiness too.”

"You are all such emotionally-constipated nutcases. How did I end up the only normal one here?" Dick asks.

Tim sniggers through the console. _“Maybe think about that statement a little longer."_

“Timmy, you wound me,” Dick protests, clutching at his heart. “So mean, little brother. You know what else is mean? Taking on massive egoist supervillains like the Demon Head and not inviting your brothers to the party. So, Timmy, new question: just why is it so hard for you to ask for help occasionally?”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. _“Did_ no one _read the proposal I put together?”_

Jason notices that doesn’t answer Dick’s question, but since the truth is none of them even thought to skim through Tim’s dumb intern proposal, he lets it slide. He shrugs helplessly at Damian and Dick, both of whom very obviously think that was his responsibility before, you know, kidnapping Tim’s intern.

It’s possible they have a point, but Jason will never, ever admit that.

Unfortunately, Tim has correctly interpreted their silence. _“Oh my god. Why do I bother drafting proposals if no one is going to read them?”_

“You’re a nerd?” Jason suggests.

Tim splutters. _“I don’t even…you_ kidnapped _my_ intern _! You could at least have glanced through the relevant reading material first!”_

“You’re absolutely right. I very well could have,” Jason agrees peaceably. “I did not.”

The other side of the comm is filled with long, rhythmic breaths. It’s a meditation technique they all know well. Jason smiles to himself. He might not get to use knives against the Replacement anymore, but never let it be said Jason Todd doesn’t know how to use every weapon at his disposal.

_“Okay,”_ Tim says at last. _“Here’s the short version. I hacked into Ra’s’ system a few weeks ago—”_

“You did what?!” Dick yelps.

_“Relax, Dick, I do it all the time,”_ Tim says dismissively. It’s even money whether he’s caught on that names are safe because the ninja has been taken care of, or if he’s just calling Dick what he is. _“It’s basically a game by now. The point is, this time around he had some new crap clogging up his files. Namely, contingency plans for some big deal he’s putting together. Contingency plans to take out each member of the family. Cass, Steph, Babs, the three of you, even Alfred.”_

“You too?” Jason interrupts.

_“Huh? Uh, yeah. Me too. Kind of, anyway. Mostly his usual stuff.”_ Tim cuts off abruptly, like he hadn’t meant to say that. _“Anyway—”_

“What do you mean by that?” Damian interrupts.

_“Mean by what?”_ Tim asks. It’s his playing-innocent voice. He’s not great at it.

Damian frowns. “‘Mostly his usual stuff,’ as you so eloquently phrased it. I demand particulars.”

_“C’mon, Damian, you already know—”_

“I think what Dami is trying to say here is, we aren’t encouraged by this, and we would like to know exactly what constitutes ‘usual stuff,’ please,” Dick breaks in.

Damian ruffles. “Do not presume to speak for me, Grayson. Drake is correct. I am well aware of the usual approved disposal methods. As I recall, Grandfather had at least twelve fully-vetted contingency plans specifically designed to incapacitate Drake in horrible, painful ways from which he would never recover.”

“ _Twelve?!_ ” Dick repeats, aghast.

Damian nods. “I developed five of them personally,” he says proudly. “My question, however, is regarding Drake’s use of the term ‘mostly.’ Dare I hope this means the various methods I have developed since arriving in Gotham have also been adopted, pending the full review of their feasibilities?”

_“Three of them have already gone through full quality control,”_ Tim says dryly.

The demon brat’s eyes light up. “The acid? Or the genetic experimentation? I developed the methodology for the genetic experimentation after Grayson forced me to watch that insufferable Hawaiian science fiction film.”

Dick closes his eyes. “ _Lilo and Stitch_ has just officially been put back in the viewing rotation, because clearly, you did not get the message the first time around.”

“I beg to differ. The message was quite clear: when experimenting on lower lifeforms, do not allow your illegal genetic experiments to escape your custody. An elementary lesson, certainly, but I suppose that was why the film creators chose to convey the lesson via animation, to appeal to small children.”

Jason can’t be sure, given the Nightwing mask, but he thinks Dick is just giving up on life right now. Personally, Jason is hoping Dick never introduced the demon brat to _Frozen_. They have enough trouble with Mr. Freeze already. He doesn’t need Damian looking into creating an army of sentient snowmen to do his bidding.

_“So, my intern?”_ Tim prompts. _“We can get back to saving people from Ra’s?”_

Jason isn’t willing to give in quite that easily. “I still don’t see what a ninja has to do with that. Why didn’t you just tell us, and we all could have gone after Ra’s together?”

There’s another long-ish pause on Tim’s end. _“It’s not your problem.”_ The words imply it’s a statement, but because Tim sounds honestly confused, it comes out more like a question. Jason humors him.

“Okay, even setting aside the obvious _mess-with-one-of-us-mess-with-all-of-us_ attitude we’ve cultivated here at BatCorp International, you just said he was targeting us specifically. Doesn’t that kind of make it our problem?”

_“But then he’d go after you,”_ Tim says, still sounding sincerely befuddled at the idea. _“Why would you want him to go after you?”_

“I thought he was already going after us?”

_“No, not yet. He just made contingency plans to go after you in the future. You’ll be just fine as long as you_ let my intern go _."_  The last words are emphatic, said with the sort of authority Jason has spent years actively undermining at every turn. No reason to break the streak now.

“McTalky gets to go when I get some answers. Start singing, baby bird. What’s your plan to take down Ra’s here?”

_“You named my intern—okay, look, can’t you just trust me when I say I do have a plan, and I need my intern to make that plan a reality? And it won’t hurt you at all? So please let the ninja go?”_

Jason hums. “That sure doesn’t sound like the details of a plan to take down Ra’s.”

_“It’s a plan with really precise timing, okay? Like two-minutes-from-now precise.”_

Jason hums again. “Then I’d start talking really fast.”

_“You are the worst. I’m going on record. The absolute_ worst _. I’m working on disabling some key features of Ra’s’ network here in Europe. At the same time, I need my intern to be coordinating with some fellow, ah, interns around the globe to take down certain other key features. Is that enough for you? You can watch everything from the Batcomputer if it makes you feel better. Full transparency. But it needs to happen_ now _.”_

Jason and Dick share a quick look, but that’s all Damian needs to stalk over to the ninja and release the bonds, take off the headphones, and remove the duct tape.

“Red Robin has requested you complete your task,” Damian informs the ninja. “The computer is available for your use.”

“Robin!” Dick hisses.

“Spare me,” Damian says dismissively. He leads the ninja to the computer, inputting the credentials necessary for access. “Red Robin would do nothing to endanger us, and what he obviously lacks in athletic skill and stamina, he generally compensates for in meticulous planning. Can either of you honestly say you have grounds to deny him this request?”

The brat is right, of course, but Jason is sorely tempted to try to find grounds anyway, just to prove he can. Dick seems torn too, probably because that’s as close to a compliment as Damian ever gets, but he doesn’t want to reward this sort of unilateral behavior.

“Besides,” Damian continues as he watches the ninja carefully, “Red Robin has likely adopted a dangerously precarious position from which to do his task, so it is likewise likely his continued survival depends on his intern completing the set assignment. As I am currently the only one in this organization who seems sufficiently dedicated to ensuring Red Robin’s passing, and I would prefer to aid that passing directly rather than giving my grandfather the credit, it would seem this is the only course of action available.”

_“Thanks, Robin,”_ Tim says wryly.

“Your gratitude is neither warranted nor appreciated,” Damian sniffs.

There’s one thing Jason still doesn’t get, though. “Hey, McTalky. What do you get out of all of this, if working for Ra’s is such a great position? Aren’t you kind of kissing that goodbye here?”

The ninja doesn’t pause even a single decisive keystroke. “Of course not. I’m bolstering my résumé. Ra’s al Ghul will wish to know how he was taken down, after all.”

“He’s not gonna be making you a job offer,” Jason snorts. “He’s going to be making attempts on your life.”

“Which I will then skillfully evade,” the ninja says, “further bolstering my résumé. Plus, it’s bound to help me prepare for the job interview.”

“Oh god, I’m just imagining Ra’s al Ghul sitting in a conference room, asking you what your biggest weakness is.”

“Unlikely. He prefers the trial-and-error approach.”

_“I’m telling you, Australia has a number of very reputable ninja universities where the entry requirements are much more reasonable, and national health care is a major step above Lazarus Pits—oh, nice, I didn’t think you’d be able to get into the Buenos Aires mainframe. His base in the Pampas is notoriously well-fortified. How did you get someone in there? No, wait, I don’t want to know. Either way, I am totally putting this in your letter of rec.”_ Tim sounds pleased over the comm. _“Okay, I think we’re good. I’ve burned every bridge Ra’s made with his new assassin prospects, so his contact list just got a whole lot shorter. That should take out most of the infrastructure he built up to enact his Bat-neutralization plans. I personally destroyed the materials en route to Gotham earlier today too, and I’ve taken control of the supply line in case he gets any smart ideas about ordering more. Everything look good on your end?”_

“Yes,” the ninja nods. “We have successfully infiltrated and dismantled the networks hosting his neutralization plans using the virus you devised. He will have to redevelop much of the methodology from scratch, should he decide to re-create it. But you’ll need to be careful. The Demon Head is going to realize this was your work almost immediately.”

_“That’s the plan,”_ the Replacement says. There’s an edge to his voice that Jason doesn’t like. _“I told him in no uncertain terms, this is between us. If he doesn’t get the message this time, I’m doing more than dismantling some networks and intimidating some contacts next time. He won’t have two cents to his name.”_

The ninja frowns. “Do you have to go after his financial assets? I don’t mind taking a postdoc position if I absolutely have to, but I’d hate to have to settle for joining Lady Shiva just because she was the only master-level assassin with tenure-track prospects in a few years.”

_“I’m sure he’ll build things back up by the time you graduate,”_ Tim says dryly. _“Okay, I’ve gotta go take down those League of Assassins advertisements. Ra’s should know the gig is up by now. Thanks for your help, and let me know if anyone else involved wants my contact info to use for a reference.”_

“Thank you, but I think they’d prefer to keep their involvement anonymous,” the ninja says. “Though if you could also instruct your minions to release me?”

The laughter ringing through the Batcave guarantees Jason is never hearing the end of this.

* * *

Tim is hunched over the Batcomputer as usual when Jason comes down to gear up for next Wednesday’s patrol. The kid is studying the screen intently, half in costume, like he got interrupted by some urgent Batcomputing on his way to the lockers. It’s still relatively early, which means no one else is around yet. Not even Workaholic Batman, which to be honest, is just regular Batman.

Since Jason doesn’t have anything better to do than antagonize Tim, he leans over his replacement’s shoulder, reading the screen and waiting for Tim to realize he’s there. (The screen is filled with scrolling lines of computer code, so fast that Jason can’t process anything he’s seeing. But that’s okay. He’s not doing it to invade the Replacement’s privacy. For once.)

It takes a full two minutes. Then Tim turns to reach for something beside him on the console, and his face almost smacks into Jason’s.

“What the hell!” Tim yells, jerking backward and almost toppling his chair. Jason hides a smile as he keeps his eyes focused on the screen, though he does shoot a hand out to steady the kid.

“Someone needs to revisit those training modules on spatial awareness, doesn’t he?” asks Jason. He pulls up a chair of his own and plops a file folder down in front of Tim.

Tim eyes it suspiciously. “What’s this?”

“A little file I found called ‘Project Fantasy League,’” Jason says airily. “Just sittin’ in the computer, takin’ up space. Made for an interesting read.”

Tim flushes and looks away. “I told Bruce I wrote everything up.”

“And you did. Boy, did you ever.” Jason swings his feet up and plops them in Tim’s lap, which has the dual effect of annoying Tim enough to look him in the face again and also keeping Tim trapped in his chair so he can’t bolt. “Kid, this was not smart.”

Tim flushes deeper. “Look, when I want your opinion on how to handle something, I’ll ask for it,” he snaps.

“No, you won’t,” says Jason. He purposely keeps his voice calm, trying not to feel like he’s soothing a skittish bird. Even though that’s exactly what he’s doing. “You won’t come to any of us. That’s most of the problem. You made Ra’s al Ghul think you were starting your own League of Assassins. Off the top of my head, I can think of at least eighteen better plans than deliberately antagonizing Ra’s al Ghul, and I’m the dumb one in our little family business.”

“I just needed him distracted, trying to figure out my endgame when I was going a completely different direction. And you are not dumb—”

“Nope, certainly not compared to someone who fabricates the plans to a fake League of Assassins just to ‘distract’ Ra’s. So, wanna tell me why you couldn’t be bothered to let any of us in on your plan? Why instead, you went out recruiting assassins-in-training from across the globe, knowing there was a sixty percent chance it was going to result in Ra’s putting out a bounty on you? A bounty all of us are still dealing with, by the way. And before you get all mopey, this isn’t because I think you can’t handle yourself or any of that crap you’ve got running through that brain of yours. I’m asking why you didn’t trust any of us enough to help you out before it even got that far.”

“I trust you guys,” Tim protests, “but like I said, this was between us. It was…it’s complicated.”

“I’m not looking for a Facebook status, Replacement.” Jason scrubs a hand over his face. “Kid, you’re going to get yourself killed. And I’m starting to think you don’t care if you do. It’s not a good look on you.”

“Jesus, Jason, I’m not suicidal!” Tim shoves his chair away, putting distance between the two of them. “How could you even think that? I just didn’t want any of you getting hurt! Is that a crime?”

“We’re okay with getting hurt, you know? It’s kind of in the job description. We get hurt all the time.”

“Yeah, saving people. Not because of me!” Tim bursts out, and _ah ha_ , Jason sees what this is now.

“We were on Ra’s shit list because of you?” he asks. Tim looks away again, and Jason knows he’s hit the proverbial nail on the head. “He was coming up with ways to eliminate us to get to you. That bastard. I am going to hunt him down like a fucking _dog_ , except I like dogs, so I am going to hunt him down like a fucking _child pimp_. If he even so much as Googles one of our names, I’m going to find him and make him _pay_.”

“I already did that,” Tim says with a tired smile. “And I’ve got reinforcements on standby. So if you don’t mind, maybe steer clear of Ra’s until he enacts another plan for world domination, and it’s all hands on deck?”

Jason studies the kid for a few seconds, long enough to make him squirm under the scrutiny, but eventually he nods. “Yeah, okay. We’ll stay out of the line of fire. But only if you promise to do the same, and you let us know when he starts getting all forcible-recruitment with you again. You hear me?”

Tim nods too. “I can do that.”

Jason has his doubts, but it’s better than he expected, honestly. “Okay. Because I don’t mind covering for you every once in awhile, but not if it’s because you’re flying all over the country to recruit ninjas. How did you even find these people?”

“LinkedIn,” Tim says with a shrug, “and I know some people who know some people. Most of them really did just need the work experience. It’s hard to get a steady ninja apprenticing gig straight out of college. Fierce competition these days. Stagnant job market, if you don't want to play cannon fodder for Ra's.”

“You know, I don’t remember my eighth-grade career counselor discussing ninja college with me.”

“Probably not a lot of recruiting events at Gotham Academy,” Tim agrees. “More of a public school thing.”

“I can’t see ninjas really getting much of a foothold around here.”

“No. Gotham is firmly in the pocket of Big Supervillain.”

“Yup. Always a henchman, never a henchmanager.”

Tim laughs like he’s actually a kid for once, and Jason hides another smile.

“That was terrible,” the Replacement informs him. “Not even Dick would make a pun that bad.”

“I would too!” protests Dick as he comes down the stairs with both the Bat and the bat brat in tow. “There is no pun too bad for Dick to make! I resent the very implication!”

Tim’s eyes gleam, and this time Jason doesn’t hide his smirk at all.

“Tim,” Bruce says warningly, but the Replacement is off and running.

“I don’t know, Dick,” Tim says, all innocent. He’s still terrible at it, Jason notes. “I don’t think you could make a worse pun than Jay.”

Dick clearly knows he’s being played, but he doesn’t care. Bruce is opening the first aid kit under the Batcomputer console and taking out the aspirin. Damian looks bemused.

“The challenge demands satisfaction!” Dick shouts. He leaps up onto a workbench and extends his arms. “Tonight only. One point per legitimate pun. Two points for each henchman who groans. And no, Jason, groans from violence don’t count, only groans from puns. Oracle arbitrates and keeps score. Worst pun of the night earns an extra ten points.”

Bruce pops two aspirin, dry.

“You’re on, Dickface,” Jason immediately accepts. “You in, Replacement?”

“Sure,” Tim agrees, like this wasn’t all his doing in the first place. “Damian?”

The little demon considers them. “We are to see who is best at spontaneous witty phrasing?” Dick nods. “Then I shall win our war of the words.”

Bruce pops another two aspirin, though this time he’s pulled a water bottle from somewhere to go with them.

“Let the games begin!” Dick crows, and they all race to get changed.

All except Bruce, Jason notes, who has stealthily snuck his aspirin bottle into his utility belt and is eyeing the Zeta tube like he might suddenly volunteer for Watchtower duty tonight.

And they can’t have that, Jason decides. Because that would defeat the entire purpose, wouldn’t it?

“Hey, old man. We patrolling together or what?”

It’s almost worth it just to see the look on B’s face, because Jason _knows_ Bats can’t pass up that offer.

Hey, the Replacement isn’t the only one who knows how to take one for the team.

**Author's Note:**

> This came from a discussion with some of my students; we were talking about career paths, next steps, etc., and finally one of them said, "I give up. I'm gonna drop out and become a ninja. No one asks a ninja for references." And thus this was born!
> 
> Stay in school, kids. The grass is always greener on the other side of the ninja student union.
> 
> Also, if you're currently in the path of Irma (or Jose, or Katia, or if you're still recovering from Harvey), stay safe. It's looking to be another scary few days. We're with you!


End file.
